𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

31

The kiss instantly becomes carnal, desperate, as if we both understand that this isn't a time to take things slow. Arguing with Eric made me a confused mess of emotions. Furious that he had spoken to me the way he did, enough to shove him. Yet so turned-on that I'd straddled his lap, deepening the connection between us.

It feels like hellfire is ripping through my body with the look he's giving me, hungry, and wanting more. The inferno scorches my soul while rage mixes with the burning desire to feel Eric in and around me.

There's not one ounce of softness in this. My hand is wrapped around his throat, Eric's tight grip in my hair, skirt bunching at my waist. He inhales sharply against my lips; his forceful hold yanks my head to the side to dominate the kiss.

Every single nerve in my body is rearranging, disconnecting, and rewiring elsewhere. My head is fuzzy, drunk on lust. And all I can do is kiss him back while I roll my hips against his hardness. The underside of his cock presses to my needy core, ready, waiting, dying for the barrier of clothing to vanish so I can feel his flesh on mine.

"You trying to fuck a confession out of me, Dan?" Eric asks against my mouth, capturing my bottom lip between his teeth. "Think I'll tell you all my secrets while you're screaming for me?"

God.

"No," I reply, panting, kissing him again, and again, until I'm engulfed in a mindless fog. My grip tightens in his hair. "But if you don't shut up and fuck me, I'll leave."

I said that? Me? Danielle McClure?

His thumb swipes across my lips, controlling his harsh breaths. He's so warm, the heat radiates from him. "One day, I'm going to shag this mouth of yours," Eric tells me. I drop my head to his shoulder and bite down on the skin until he hisses, thrusting upwards. "I can feel how wet you are, fucking cunt is dripping for me, you little slut. Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to feel you around my cock?"

The degrading name should turn me off, should cause me to stand up and slap him. But the way he says it in his husky tone, shifting my underwear aside so there's no barrier between us, makes me want more. The role of who's in control keeps reversing. I'm holding onto his shoulder and hair while one of Eric's hands is between my legs, the other unclasping my bra, shoving my top up and palming my breast.

"Jesus," I barely whisper, but Eric catches on and grins. He's so handsome. Strands of brown fall over his forehead as I lift his top off, lips plump, muscles rippling beneath his inked skin. I want to touch him everywhere, but my grasp remains on his defined shoulders to stop myself from crumbling at his touch.

It's at this moment that I feel tiny indentations beneath my fingertips. Scars litter Eric's skin, concealed by his tattoos. There are loads, and I trace them right to the base of his neck.

My nipple tightens between his fingers, rolling and pinching. I whimper as he circles my most sensitive area, dipping into my wetness then back to my clit, feeling his cock twitching against my inner thigh as I gasp into his mouth.

He pushes two fingers inside of me, easily, from how wet I am. My eyes roll, nails biting into his skin, probably close to drawing blood. His movements aren't even slightly careful, they're quick, and deep, and rough, just the way we need it to be.

"Fucking beautiful," he rasps through gritted teeth, devouring me like I'm all that's left in the world, dragging another whimper from my throat by sinking knuckle deep. He trails kisses along my jaw, until his tongue traces the shell of my ear, curling his fingers and pumping harder.

Air is ripped from my lungs in sharp breaths. "Oh, God," I blurt out, my hips moving in sync with his hand, screwing my eyes shut from the burst of sensations rushing through me.